


Something Left To Save

by bqdfantasy



Category: Guardians of Childhood - William Joyce, Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: F/M, Gen, Kink Meme, Memories, Memory Loss, Minor Character Death, Pitch's memories, Repressed Memories, kink meme fill, rotgkink
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-01-13
Updated: 2013-09-30
Packaged: 2017-11-25 09:14:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/637349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bqdfantasy/pseuds/bqdfantasy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Tooth looked at Pitch's memories, she certainly didn't expect what she found...</p><p>For <a href="http://rotg-kink.dreamwidth.org/1511.html?thread=588007">this prompt</a> at rotgkink on Dreamwidth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Like Memories of Dying Days

**Author's Note:**

> For the prompt "Maybe Pitch doesn't remember being Kozmotis Pitchiner, but the memories still exist in his enamel when Toothiana punches one of his teeth out! I want to see a satisfied Tooth pick up her trophy of the Nightmare King's defeat, and her expression just crumbles as she interprets the memories inside. I know Tooth lives life fast-paced but I'd like to see her approach this problem slowly, keeping it from the Guardians as she considers what to do and treading softly when she chooses to inform or include them in... whatever she decides to do about it!"

Tooth smiled proudly down at the tooth in her hand, the physical proof that she and the other Guardians (now including Jack) had defeated Pitch Black. She fluttered up to the very top of the Tooth Palace, where the few adult teeth they had were stored. Not many adults put their lost teeth under their pillows, since they had grown out of believing in the Guardians, and so only a little space was needed to store them. Usually, the teeth would be placed in boxes similar to those used for children's teeth, but since Pitch had never been a child and therefore never lost any baby teeth, Tooth's fairies had quickly prepared a small box in which to store their trophy.

 

Tooth opened the box, and went to place the tooth in it, when a thought struck her. Teeth contained memories, all of the fairies knew that. So... what memories might _this_ tooth, the Nightmare King's tooth, contain?

 

She glanced around; her fairies were all busy collecting teeth, and she was alone in the room. Surely it couldn't hurt to just take a little peek, right? She'd hide the tooth away straight after, and it wasn't like she was really doing anything wrong. There were no rules stopping them from looking at adult memories; the only reason, really, that they didn't, was because their focus was on children, and so she and her fairies spent more time on the memories of children than anything else.

 

It wouldn't take her long. And she was curious. Tooth cupped Pitch's tooth in both hands, closed her eyes, and looked.

 

 

  
 **General Kozmotis Pitchiner, Journal, 5th Centaurian Moon of 1691CS**

  
**All quiet yesterday save for the usual murmurings of the Fearlings. There's no sign of any escape for them, and I suspect they realise that too, after so long. I received a letter from my Seraphina yesterday morning; she is doing excellently in all of her classes, and working hard. She says that she misses me, and that she hopes I can come home soon. I haven't the heart to tell her that my post will end only with my death. It's better, I think, to let her hope for as long as she can. I intend to write her a letter in return as soon as am finished with the night's rounds, and to send it as soon as possible. It is dusk now; time to begin my rounds.**

**General Kozmotis Pitchiner**

_Once Kozmotis had signed his name, he set the pen aside, blowing lightly on the page to dry the ink before closing the journal. He stood, checking his rapier was secure in its sheath at his waist, and left the small room he now resided in to begin his nightly patrol of the prison. The Fearlings tended to be more active at night, and since he had realised this, he had become effectively nocturnal._

_As usual, he checked every possible exit; every sign of cracks in the walls, every irregularity, every way that Fearlings might use to attempt an escape. It was hardly captivating work, but he never allowed himself to grow complacent in the routine; that would go against everything he was._

_Eventually, Kozmotis reached the front of the building, where the great door was. It was the only door in the entire prison, the sole way to enter or exit. Kozmotis had the only key to it, tucked into the same pocket of his tunic as his locket._

_The door loomed above him, dark and forbidding, as he checked the locks and bolts one by one, ensuring that there was no damage and no sign of interference. Lock number eight was showing signs of corrosion, he noted; it would need replacement soon. He made a mental note to add that to his list of tasks for tomorrow night. The other locks and bolts were undamaged, and Kozmotis nodded in satisfaction before taking up his place in the guard station beside the door._

_This close to the door, the whispers of the Fearlings were louder than anywhere else. Kozmotis ignored them with the practised determination of experience. They whispered of the darkness, and of the things they planned to do to him once they were free. They promised him mercy if he released them, a quick and painless death. Kozmotis knew better; he had seen too many of his comrades fall to the monsters to believe that they were capable of mercy._

_Gradually, the whispers changed in tone, becoming more begging than threatening. With the shift came an increase in volume, and Kozmotis gritted his teeth, fists clenching at his side. This was often worse than the threats; threats he had been trained to ignore, but the begging reminded him far too much of those he had seen possessed by Fearlings and executed. All too often, they begged for mercy, and then stabbed their captors in the back the first chance they had._

_Now, though, the Fearlings begged for just a tiny taste of fresh air, just a little freedom. It couldn't hurt, they whispered, not if it were only a moment, and they were so LONELY and DESPERATE and -_

_Kozmotis stared directly ahead, refusing to even acknowledge that he heard their increasingly frantic pleas. After a time, the whispers quieted a little. Just like every night, their volume increased and decreased in cycles; Kozmotis was always grateful for the brief moments of respite._

_Automatically, his hand went to his tunic pocket, where his locket and the key to the door lay. He pulled the locket from his pocket, coiling the chain loosely about his hand, and flicked it open to reveal the picture of his beautiful Seraphina. As he gazed at her likeness, a smile crept unbidden to his face, and he reminded himself that all of this, no matter how unpleasant, was for her, and for those like her. No matter how much he might wish to return to her, his duty to protect not only his daughter, but every other child and family, would keep him at his post._

_"Please, Daddy..."_

_Kozmotis' head jerked up. No._

_  
_

_"Please, please, please open the door..."_

_That couldn't have been what he thought it was. She was safe, safe and far away from here. He had gotten a letter from her only yesterday!_

_A Fearling trick. That was the only explanation, and Kozmotis cursed himself for having believed it, even for a moment. That was not his daughter, and he had to ignore it. Even a moment's weakness could destroy everything he had spent his life working for. Kozmotis gritted his teeth, his shoulders tense and fists clenched. He glared at nothing, doing his best not to glance at the door, despite the whisper in the back of his mind telling him it couldn't do any harm to look for just a moment._

_Looking at the locket so close to them might have been a mistake. Then again, he had opened the locket many times before whilst on guard with no ill results. So why -_

_"Daddy!"_

_Ignore it. Don't show that it bothers you._

_  
_

_"I'm trapped in here with these shadows, and I'm scared!"_

_She's safe at home. She isn't in there._

_  
_

_"Please open the door!" The child's voice cracked a little, the fear plain in it. It's not her, Kozmotis reminded himself again, glancing at the photograph in the locket he was still clutching._

_"Help me, Daddy, please!"_

_pleasepleaseplease_

_  
_

_The words echoed through his mind, tearing at his soul, bringing every time he had ever feared for his daughter to the fore. He had to save her, he couldn't leave her, not in there -_

_Kozmotis ran to the door, stumbling a little and barely noticing as he dropped the locket, scrabbling at his tunic pocket to get at the key. After a few tries the key slid smoothly into the lock, turned, and the door was unlocked. Kozmotis barely noticed how the bolts and locks were shattered and corrupted by shadows as he flung the door open, searching the darkness desperately for his daughter._

_She wasn't there._

_Kozmotis returned abruptly to himself for only a moment, and in that split second of clarity he realised exactly what he had done. He staggered back in horror, fumbling uselessly for the door even as the Fearlings swarmed him._

_They tore at his mind, shredding every bit of Kozmotis Pitchiner they could find, dragging his memories from him and obliterating them; he felt himself forgetting, felt the memories vanishing from him, and he screamed._

 

 

Tooth's eyes flew open. She dropped the tooth, scrambling back as she gasped for breath. The tooth lay on the floor, looking as harmless as any of the children's teeth, but Tooth knew better now.

 

What had _that_ been? The strange man surely wasn't Pitch... although now that she thought about it, the brief glimpse she had gotten of the man's face when he walked past a mirror looked a lot like Pitch, if far more human. Where Pitch's skin was grey, his had been so pale it seemed almost translucent, and his eyes, rather than being golden, were a stormy grey. But the physical differences ended there. Which had to mean...

 

Did any of the others know this? Did _Pitch_ even know?

 

Surely he didn't. If he knew that he had once been a hero, then why would he be so cruel now? General Kozmotis Pitchiner hadn't seemed the sort of person to grow so bitter that he would tear away children's belief. He had seemed far more concerned with protecting the children.

 

Tooth bit her lip. She shouldn't have looked; the memory had brought up all sorts of unpleasant questions. And besides, even if Pitch had once been someone good, all of that must be gone by now. He had taken her fairies, after all, and hurt Jack and Sandy, not to mention destroying the children's belief.

 

Retrieving the tooth from the floor, Tooth placed it carefully in the box, fluttering up to store it in such an out of the way place that she hopefully wouldn't be tempted again to look at Pitch's memories. The task she had come to perform complete, she flew out of the room, pushing Pitch's memory to the back of her mind.


	2. we never had a choice

Pitch jerked awake, his golden eyes wide and unseeing as he gasped for air. His harsh breathing was loud in the silent room, and he hastily calmed himself, having no desire to attract any of the uncontrolled Nightmares that wandered his lair.

He cast a quick glance around, relieved to see that the small, disused room he had sought sanctuary in was free of Nightmares. Slowly, he forced himself to his feet, wincing at the pangs of pain from his various injuries. Using the wall he had been slumped against as a support, he managed to take a few steps before the pain and fatigue forced him to acknowledge that he needed more time to recover - Nightmare-free time. Unfortunately, he doubted he would have that, since, judging by the nightmare he had just had, the creatures could attack him even in his sleep. He wasn't sure why that surprised him; after all, that was precisely what he had created them to do.

Speaking of which... what on Earth had that nightmare been? Most of the time, his nightmares were far simpler, centring mostly around loneliness and lack of belief. But that had been far more complex; he didn't recall ever having visited the location he had been in, despite his many years of memories. He couldn't have forgotten it; a place so dismal as that would have been a fertile breeding ground for fear.

There was, of course, the possibility that his mind had created it, but he very much doubted that. The things his mind came up with tended to be more along the lines of new ways to terrify people, which were often tested on himself through nightmares. Then, of course, there was the fact that it had felt far too _real_. Pitch was well aware of the mind's ability to make dreams and nightmares seem to be reality, but over the years he had grown skilled at distinguishing between them. That nightmare had seemed almost as though he weren't dreaming, but remembering...

Pitch shook away his thoughts, grimacing as the sharp movement made his head throb. He didn't have time for this, he reminded himself, forcing his legs to take another step. Not with the Nightmares loose, uncontrolled, and most likely hunting for him.

It wasn't that he was afraid of them. He was merely a little apprehensive, just as anyone would be when faced with the prospect of spending eternity as a food source for Nightmares. He simply didn't have time to consider the nightmare.

You've nothing _but_  time, hissed an unpleasantly familiar set of voices at the back of his mind. Pitch rolled his eyes, and made himself take a few more steps. The corner of the room was most likely the best place to escape into the shadows, where he ought to be able to heal a little. The darkness was thickest there.

You're trapped down here, the voices continued furiously. You FAILED! Pitch winced, both at the words and at their volume, but he carried on towards the corner, taking it one careful, pained step at a time. Once he had slipped into the shadows, he could rest, and work out what would appease the voices this time. They had been at the back of his mind for as long as he could recall, and they were never pleasant to deal with.

LISTEN TO US!

Pitch couldn't help crying out in pain as he sank bonelessly to the floor, clutching at his head. His blunt nails scraped unconsciously at his face and scalp, leaving thin lines of pain that were only minor annoyances compared with the agony piercing his skull. Pitch curled in on himself, trying not to whimper, and waited for the voices to grow bored.

After what seemed like an eternity, the pain receded, fading to a dull throb at the base of his skull. He waited a moment, but the voices seemed happy that they had made their point, and remained quiescent. Suppressing a sigh of relief, Pitch tried to haul himself back to his feet. No sooner had he stood, however, than his legs buckled, and he all but collapsed against the wall, where he proceeded to slide slowly down to the cool stone floor.

Pitch glared at the corner. It would be the easiest way to enter the shadows, the almost total lack of light there making it almost harder to remain visible than not. Also, he hated to admit it, but given how weak he currently was, it might be the only way.

Pitch gritted his teeth, and tried once again to pull himself up. This time, no matter how he clawed at the wall, he couldn't find the strength to stand.

A Nightmare whinnied somewhere not too far away, and Pitch swallowed.

He was the Nightmare King. He wouldn't crawl, no matter how much he wanted (or needed) to get to that corner. He *would not*.

The sound of hooves echoed nearby, far too close for comfort.

Pitch stared at the corner again, the too-familiar tang of self-loathing on the back of his tongue and the voices laughing mockingly at him in his head, behind his thoughts. Then, slowly and painfully, he began to drag himself towards the corner.

He vanished into the darkness just as the first Nightmare arrived.

 

* * *

 

  
"Left lower first bicuspid, England; oh, two upper central incisors over in Australia, make sure you get both, girls! And we've got a hockey match coming up, we'll need a team ready - "

Life in the Tooth Palace was manic as always, Tooth rattling off commands and tooth locations almost faster than her fairies could follow. The fairies themselves were constantly zipping around as they collected and stored the teeth. Tooth had been so busy in the three weeks since Pitch's defeat that she had barely given a thought to Pitch's tooth, stored safely away at the top of the palace. The memory remained, though, what she had seen and what it might mean festering quietly in the back of her mind.

Tooth turned, smiling, as a newly-familiar chill washed over her. Behind her, Jack was leaning on his staff, smiling back at her. There was something off about it, though, and Tooth wondered if she should ask.

"Jack!" she exclaimed instead, flitting over to him to greet him with a hug. Maybe she and the other Guardians hadn't been there for him all that time, but she had resolved to try and make up for that. Every time she had seen Jack since they all parted ways, she had made a point of hugging him and making time for him. It might not have been much compared to the years alone, but she hoped that it made up for it at least a little.

The hugs, once Jack had become comfortable enough to start returning them automatically, had become their way of saying hello. It was considerably less awkward than their first meeting, when her instinctive reaction had been to rummage around in his mouth.

After a moment, Jack hugged her back, but it was far more hesitant than usual. Concerned, Tooth drew back so she could see his face. He didn't seem his usual cheerful self at all.

"Is everything okay, Jack?" she asked him. "Oh, upper right cuspid in New York, and we've just had that hockey match I mentioned this morning, chop chop, girls!" The flock of fairies surrounding her zoomed off, and she returned her full attention to Jack, giving him a sheepish little smile. "Sorry about that, but, well, you know how it is - the job never stops!" She gave a little laugh, and Jack cracked a small smile, but his face quickly fell again.

"What's wrong?" Tooth asked him again, gently pulling him down until they were both sitting on the floor.

Jack chewed on his lip for a moment (Tooth tried not to stare at his wonderful teeth), then blurted out, "It's Pitch."

Panic shot through Tooth, and she sprang into the air, wings fluttering frantically.

"Pitch?" she exclaimed. "What's Pitch done? Have you seen him?" Her eyes widened and her fists clenched as another possibility occurred to her. "Has he attacked you, Jack? If he - "

"No!" Jack cut her off. "No, Tooth, it's fine. I haven't seen him since we beat him." He sighed. "And that's what I'm worried about."

Tooth frowned, calming down a little from her outburst, and fluttered slowly back to the ground to sit beside Jack, murmuring a command to the nearest fairies as she did so. Once she was grounded again, Jack continued slowly, "It's just... Tooth, we just left him to those things. We let them drag him off to who knows where underground, and... nobody believed in him." He stared at Tooth. "I mean, look at what happened to you guys when the kids..."

"Jack, he's not had any real believers since the Dark Ages," Tooth reminded him gently. "The only effect we ever saw was that his powers got weaker, and if that's happened again, it can only be a good thing; it means he won't attack again any time soon."

Jack rubbed at his face with the heel of his hand. "Yeah, but..." He sighed. "Look, I saw one of Pitch's Nightmares the other day."

Tooth suppressed the automatic panic, and waited for Jack to speak.

"It didn't... Well." He paused, seeming to need a moment to gather his thoughts. "I've seen feral cats, before, hanging around cities. It looked a lot like that, only, well, not a cat, obviously." He shoved his hands in the pocket of his hoodie, and added, "I'm not sure Pitch is controlling them any more."

That shocked Tooth. If Pitch wasn't controlling the Nightmares... Would it be better or worse for them to be wild?

"I guess what I'm trying to say," Jack concluded, glancing away, "is that I'm worried about Pitch."

Tooth frowned, trying not to think of what she had seen in Pitch's memories.

"Jack," she said carefully, "he's the Boogeyman, remember? He hurt you, and he stole my fairies." She paused, swallowing. "And what he did to Sandy... He's not going to appreciate your pity. If anything, he'd try to use it against you." She firmly pushed away the niggling thought of the little girl from Pitch's memory.

Jack nodded, frowning. "I know what he did, Tooth. But... you heard what he said, about being lonely and having nobody who believed in him." He shifted, and Tooth heard what he wasn't saying. Her heart clenched. Of course Jack would feel sympathy for Pitch. They had both gone through the same thing, unseen and forgotten by the whole world until so very recently.

But Jack was nothing like Pitch, aside from that similarity in their pasts. Her fun-loving friend was as different as could be from the Nightmare King, especially when it came to the most important things.

"But you have believers now," she reminded Jack, smiling in an attempt to banish his sadness. "Upper left lateral incisor, New Mexico! How is Jamie, anyway?"

Jack brightened, her attempt at distraction clearly succeeding, and began to tell her all about how Jamie was doing at school, and how good he was at drawing for someone of his age. In the few hours that Jack stayed, Tooth learned that Jamie was already tentatively planning to do "something with lots of drawing" when he was older, and that Sophie was eager to see Bunnymund again. Jack told her that he was thinking of asking Bunny to visit her at some point.  
  
Jack left a few hours later, seeming far happier than he had been when he arrived. Tooth watched for a few moments as the wind carried him away, then got back to work.  
  
But she couldn't quite forget what Jack had said about Pitch, and his concern for the Nightmare King. He had previously told her about Pitch's attempt to convince Jack to join him, and Tooth had assumed at the time that Pitch's talk of loneliness was simply to appeal to Jack. After all, she hadn't been especially pleased with Pitch so soon after he had taken her fairies and almost destroyed the children's belief. But now, after the memory she had seen...  
  
Tooth sighed, and decided to return to where Pitch's tooth was stored as soon as she had a free moment.

The opportunity came only half an hour or so later, the teeth collection slowing enough that Tooth was able to let her fairies handle things by themselves for a little while. She asked Baby Tooth to keep an eye on them; since the little fairy's adventure with Jack, she had gotten much more independent. Tooth told the fairies that she wanted to make sure that there was nothing strange about Pitch's tooth, given what he was.

The fairies, bless them, didn't call her out on the obvious lie, or point out that she had had three weeks to check the tooth. Baby Tooth gave her a look that plainly said that she hoped Tooth knew what she was doing.

Tooth wasn't sure she did.

* * *

 

Pitch lay flat on his back, staring up at the Nightmares surrounding him.

"Back," he commanded them. He had controlled them once before, after all. He ought to be able to do it again.

The nearest Nightmare snorted, baring its teeth, and Pitch took advantage of its momentary distraction to slip into the shadows. He was long gone before they could follow him.

For the past three weeks, his time had been devoted to attempting to heal from his injuries whilst simultaneously avoiding the Nightmares that hunted him. Naturally, these activities hadn't been especially conducive to getting a good night's sleep. Now, he slipped out of the shadows beneath the bed in one of the smallest rooms in his lair. If the Nightmares found him in here, it would take them a few moments at least to assume a form which would allow them entry, by which time Pitch would be long gone. It wasn't especially comfortable for him, of course, but that was the necessary price.

Pitch checked for any trace of Nightmares in the room, then settled himself beneath the bed. He was still tense, his exhaustion and his wariness warring for dominance. Both sensations were perfectly normal for him, though the exhaustion was rarely this bad. Usually, he was able to get at least a little regular sleep.

Now that the Nightmares hunted him, however, he had been unable to sleep for more than a few hours at a time. For the past three weeks, he had been constantly running from place to place, trying to find somewhere safe where he could rest for even a moment. Technically, the last time he had slept for longer than about three hours he had been unconscious, which generally didn't count.

Enough contemplation of your misfortune, Pitch told himself. It was quiet, dark, and most importantly safe beneath the bed, and he needed to take every opportunity he got to rest. Pitch closed his eyes, and allowed himself to sink into welcome oblivion.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Interesting (sort-of) fact: this chapter was written entirely on tissues and bus tickets whilst I was at school. There were about twenty of them when I had to type it up, haha


	3. Hiatus

Hey everyone,

I'm really sorry, but for the time being, I'm putting this fic on hiatus. There are a few reasons for this:

1\. I'm just not that active in the RoTG fandom any more.   
2\. I've just started college, and I am swamped with homework.  
3\. I made the mistake of not properly planning this fic beforehand, and, as a result, I don't have any idea where the storyline is going, only vague ideas about what could possibly happen.

Thanks for understanding, and I'm sorry again.

~Kathryn

**Author's Note:**

> What the Fearlings say whilst pretending to be Pitch's daughter is quoted from the book.


End file.
